


Nobody Left Behind (Or Forgotten)

by dancergrl1, overlycompensatedapprentice



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Kidnapping, Nightmares, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1, https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlycompensatedapprentice/pseuds/overlycompensatedapprentice
Summary: Philip is taken defending the Barnum girls by some unknown, who wants more than money. WHo took him? What do they want? Will everyone be alright?





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the story promised, rolling out with TWO chapters to begin. We hope you enjoy!

“Father, we’ve had this discussion before. I enjoy my life now. I have someone who loves me. People who care for me.” Phillip resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wouldn’t reflect well.

He’d run into them by the market, picking up their specially-dyed threads to repair costumes. He was urgently getting the thread because Anne’s costume was ripped, and any type of resistance threw off the timing and focus of the routine. It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. He stood several feet away from them. He didn’t even want to get close. That was entirely too risky. He knew what they were capable of. He’d witnessed, and fallen victim to, their relentless ideology.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have very important places to be. Really, a shame i have to cut this short”

“What, like that farce you all call a business?” His mother decided now that it was a good time to speak up. “And with that conman you call a ‘new father’?”

“And that girl, that...help...you’re parading around with.” He sneered.

Phillip took another step back, keeping his distance to reduce the temptation of hitting them. Responding was not in his best interests, this he knew. Not in this public place. Thankfully, he’d already collected his goods. He tipped his hat, a sarcastic imitation of the proper goodbye, and walked away, straining to listen behind him. There was nothing. Or so he thought. Unfortunately, he wasn’t listening hard enough.   
He never heard the man fall into step behind him. There was no way for him to know what was coming. There was no way for anyone to know.

—  
Phillip approached the circus, coming in the main gate towards the big top, eager to get inside before they had to rehearse. Just as he stepped towards the entrance, he heard small voices calling his name.

“PHILLIP!”

He turned just in time for impact. Moments later, his arms were full of Barnum girls and his face had lots of hair flying into it.

“How are my two favorite girls?!” He exclaimed.

“Wonderful!” Caroline said. “I’m the lead in the ballet!”

“Oh, again?” Phillip feigned surprise. “The best dancer in New York gets the lead? I’m so shocked.”

Caroline giggled and was about to reply when Phillip heard a noise coming from behind him in the shadows.

Then he heard the footsteps, and whirled around, ready to defend the two little girls behind him with his life, giving no regards to his own safety. It was...something they were working on.

His stomach dropped, seeing the man in front of him. He put the girls down, stepping in front of them protectively.

“Phillip?” Helen asked, voice small. “Who is that?”

“It’s alright, Helen. It’ll be okay, promise. Take these into Lettie, alright?” He asked, handing her the bag with the thread.

The man clad in black came closer to them, and replied for her. “No, not alright. They’ll stay right here. Or, even better, come with me.”

Caroline and Helen both froze, eyes widening.

“Over my dead body,” Phillip replied, voice full of steel.

“That can be arranged.” A second man appeared next to the first. Caroline cried out in fear.

“Run, girls!” Phillip ordered. “Go inside and get your father!”

“Phillip!” They cried.

“GO! NOW!” He yelled. He heard them run off.

He felt the first blow connect with his side as he twisted to watch them. He turned to fight back, giving one what was hopefully a black eye, a fact he would be mildly pleased about when he discovered it. Then a fateful blow to the side of his head sent him sprawling, turning his head towards the side of the tent.

“Fine,” One of them said nonchalantly. “We’ll just bring you along instead. You’re worth more, according to the higher ups.”

Phillip could feel himself being grabbed roughly by the back of his shirt, feel himself being lifted off the ground. He caught a glimpse of a red coat right before his world went black.   
_

P.T. Barnum heard the shouting from his girls. At first, he thought they were crying out in delight for Phillip. It certainly seemed that way. He turned as he felt Anne come up next to him. “They love him.” He said conversationally.

“They do. They have so much love to give.” She replied coldly. He read between the lines. He wasn’t stupid. “All three of them.”

He was torn from his musings by another cry from the front gate. This one was different. It wasn’t love or laughter. It was fear.

Phineas’s heart dropped into his stomach. His children were in danger. All of them.

He started running even before he knew what he was doing, Anne keeping pace with him. All of the ice in her eyes replaced by worry as they ran for the front gate. P.T. saw it in her eyes. She understood her anger could wait, this was so much more important.

“PHILLIP!” He shouted. They watched him be carried away, too far away to do much else.

“Caroline, Helen, oh thank god, are you alright did they hurt you?” His questions tumbled out one after the other and it was only Caroline’s tears that stopped him.

“Daddy, they took Phillip! Please, Daddy, DO something!” she wailed.   
  
Helen, usually the stoic one, was clutching Anne like her life depended on it and was just...staring, at the place she’d last seen her big brother.

“Barnum!” She called out.

His hands were full too. What a mess. Deciding to take charge, since clearly nobody else would, she rolled her eyes heavenwards, and picked up Helen, settling her on her hip, head nestled into her shoulder. She nudged Phineas, and cocked her head towards the tent. “Best to get them inside.” She stated.

He picked up his trembling charge, cradling her closely like he hasn’t had reason to since she was born. When had she gotten so big?

He followed Anne numbly into the tent, and towards the stands. They were swarmed by the troupe before they reached them.

WD took the lead. “What happened?” He asked hesitantly.

Anne let the question hang for a moment, and when it became obvious the girls were too far gone to answer, she began. “Philip had gone to the market, to get the thread for our costumes. I’m not sure what happened there. When he came back, there was someone behind them. Frick and Frack greeted him like always, and then someone tried to start something with him. It must’ve been bad, he yelled at them. Loud enough to bring me out of the back tent. Barnum was there, and the girls ran to us, and when I turned around, they had Philip in the air, carrying him off.” All of this was said matter-of-factly, but the gasping sob at the end revealed she, too, was terrified.

Lettie had taken Helen, and this left Anne free to be embraced by her brother. “Please, let him be okay.” She whispered into his shoulder. She wasn’t sure if it was for him, or for herself.


	2. Coming To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip comes to, and Phineas has to tell Charity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters to start you off! Enjoy!

Philip came to while he was still being carried. Unfortunately, he knew that alerting whomever it was that he was aware was going to end badly. He stayed silent, his eyes closed, and tried to keep his breathing even. He could feel the cobblestones scraping lightly across his back, rubbing through his coat slowly. He listened for noises around him, and heard nothing. How far had they gotten? There was no place in the city this quiet.

Apparently they didn’t have much further to go, as the light behind his eyelids changed to dark, and the temperature dropped several degrees. He stayed limp and pliable as he felt himself tied to a chair by his ankles. His hands were secured behind his back, the cords tied tightly enough so that they cut into his wrists, and he heard footsteps cross the floor.

“Boss is either gonna love this, or hate us.”

There was no reply as the door shut behind them.

Phillip slowly raised his head, making sure they were gone before letting out a shaky breath. His heart was pounding against his chest. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so scared.

He tested the ropes around his wrists to see if they would break, or even loosen a little. All he accomplished was hurting his hands, the ropes digging in further and straining the tendons. He was careful not to be too loud in his efforts, in case it alerted whoever had taken him to the fact he was once again aware. If he strained, he could hear a lilting female voice, but couldn’t make out the words. He recognized it, but didn’t know where from. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and quickly slumped back into what he hoped was the same position they’d left him in. He cursed himself as he jumped when the door opened.

“Looks like he’s awake, boys!” The leader yelled. He stalked over and gripped Philip’s hair, wrenching his head upright.

Philip blinked and tried to shake his head, as if he’d just woken up. “Wha...where…?” He tried to slur his words, sound confused.

It didn’t work.

“Don’t even try it, Mister Carlyle.” The man put a hand under Phillip’s chin and tilted his head back just a little further. “Unless you want this to hurt more than it needs to.”

Oh. Shit. They knew who he was. That was never good.

“Boss has decided to try to get ransom out of your folks. That makes you worth so much more than the snot nosed brats she wanted.”

Phillip resisted the urge to laugh, it so was not the appropriate reaction to his situation. He considered the slip of the tongue the man had just given him. “She?” He asked conversationally.

“Shut up!” The shuttered look that came over the man’s face was his hint to stop now, but to reinforce it, the other stepped forward, offering a hearty clip round the back of his head. Phillip didn’t cry out. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“Think that hurt, boy?” he sneered. “We haven’t even begun.”

Phillip’s blood ran cold. His only thought was ‘ _what would they have done to Caroline and Helen?_ ’ He didn’t even want to begin to consider it.   
—  
Once the circus had gotten settled down, and Barnum and Anne had tucked the suddenly-tired girls into Lettie’s enormous bed-Philip’s would’ve been too much for them- he took a moment, sitting in the chair she had, and considered his next step. It was only then he realized he had to inform Charity. She would most likely literally kill him if he didn’t tell her, and definitely consider stringing him by his ankles from the top of the tent. Especially when he took the girls home in this state.

He looks up into Anne’s hurt, bright eyes. “He’ll be alright. Right?” She asked tearfully. He’d only seen her in this state once before, and that was at the hospital immediately following the fire. She’d asked the same question, looking for the same reassurances.

He stands, beckoning her towards him. He’s not surprised when she refuses, shaking her head. “He’ll be alright. Can...can you help me? I...I have to tell Charity...and they’re sleeping so well...I can’t bring myself to...to wake them...yet.” His stumbled words are so unlike his usually calm, demanding demeanor that she nods numbly.

“Of course.” They each lift a little girl, and she follows him to their carriage. “They’ll be alright.” She offers this reassurance as she closes the door.

They would be, once they got their big brother back. But would she? Would Philip be alright?

Anne finds her brother still in the stands, looking far away at nothing. “WD…” is all she manages to gasp out before she crawls into him, trying to get under his skin by sheer force of will.

He reacts on instinct, more than conscious choice. He collects her long legs and lanky arms into his lap, and lets her curl into a ball smaller than the contortionists could. It wasn’t the first time she’d assumed this position, and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last. She needed to feel safe. And this was a hell of a lot better than ways she could be doing it. If she didn't want this, she ran herself ragged on the trapeze, running through the same complex tricks and spins and flips until she couldn’t see straight from dizziness. She would let that settle by stretching on the floor, and started it again. WD had had to physically drag her away from the trapeze more than once in the last several months. He felt her shaking against him, tears wetting his shirt, but it was alright. Shirts washed. Little sisters were less easily repaired.   
—  
Barnum arrived home with two awake, scared little girls who wouldn’t let go of him.

“No daddy don’t let me go please! They might try to get me again!” Caroline cried.

Helen just clung to his neck, almost cutting off air.

The ruckus brought charity out to the porch. Caroline spotted her and ran to her.

“Mommy,” she sobbed. Charity held back a wince as Caroline practically climbed her. Lifting her daughter, she turned a steely gaze on her husband.

“Phin, what happened?” Charity noticed how pale all three were, the edge to her voice and the glare in her gaze disappearing as she took in the sight they made. The fact that there was no Phillip accompanying them alerted to her to something very, very wrong.

“Mommy they took Phillip!” Caroline wailed.

Charity whirled on her husband, raising a hand to her mouth. “Who took Phillip? What happened? Is he hurt?”

Phineas tried to fill in the gaps over the sobs of their daughters. “He’d just come from the market, and someone had followed him. The girls ran to him, and i…” he swallowed heavily, looking a little green “I think they wanted the girls. Well, you know Phillip, no regards for his own safety. Dammit. Anyways, he fought them to protect the girls and they knocked him out, took him instead.”

Charity gasped. “No, Phin, no.” Charity wasn’t the type of woman to get hysterical, but this was an unprecedented situation for all of them. If she hadn’t been holding her eldest, she would've hit her knees, out of pure shock.

Her husband's commanding, ringmaster voice brought her back to herself. “Charity, let’s get the girls in bed. It’s been a very exciting day. THen we can talk.” He refused to release his emotions in front of his children. It would do no good if everyone was upset.

Charity nodded slowly. He lead the way up the stairs, and though it was against her better judgement, she put them both in the same bed. It’s where they felt secure, and who was she to deny them that? She removed their shoes and drew the blankets up around their shoulders. She smiled sadly at the way they instinctively curled around each other.

The moment that Phineas and Charity stepped downstairs, Phineas collapsed into a chair, laying his head in his hands. “Could I have stopped them? Could I have done anything?”

Charity resisted the urge to slap her husband. “All that would’ve done is gotten you taken too. And that is the LAST thing that the girls needed to witness. It isn’t too late to save Phillip.”

Phineas’ panicking brain latches onto this new idea, calming his racing thoughts and assuaging his guilt. “Save him?” He asks, sounding more like the little boy she met than the ringmaster she knew him to be.

“Yes. We can get our boy back.” She stepped over to him, running a hand over the back of his head, and he just...breaks. Forgetting the grace and poise befitting a woman of her station, she kneels, putting herself level with his eyes, and forcing his chin up softly to look at her. “He will be ok. We will be ok. It will be ok.” She wouldn’t let it be any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review!


	3. The Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The note is delivered, and angst abounds

Phillip was left alone, but they started talking as soon as they closed the door. 

“Boss wants to try to ransom the kid back to the parents. Says they’ve got money.”

“Do you even know the Carlyles? Of course they have money, they’re loaded.” 

The conversation became a lost cause to listen to as they walked further away. They left Phillip to his thoughts as he considered what they said. His parents had disowned him months ago. It wasn’t exactly an advertised fact, as the Carlyle's didn’t wish to ‘tarnish their reputation’ as upstanding members of society.

Phillip snorted. Upstanding. Upstanding people didn’t beat their children, didn’t lock them away when they were tired of dealing with them, didn’t send them away when they were old enough just to be rid of them. He thought, fleetingly, there couldn’t be anything his kidnappers could do that would hurt worse than his father’s more creative punishments.  
—  
The man in black knocked on the door, having sweet-talked his way past the guard posted at the gate, with a little money to sweeten the deal. His hand went to the note in his pocket, the note that was going to get their little gang rich if it worked.

If it didn’t, well, they could have a bit of fun with knives and the Carlyle boy, so it was really a win-win. 

The butler opened the door, and immediately cast a doubtful glance over the somewhat disheveled presence on the stoop. “Can I help you?”

“As a matter of fact, you can. I have an urgent matter to discuss with Mr. Carlyle. About his son.” he replied haughtily. 

“There is no son in the Carlyle family any longer.” The voice came from behind the butler, and William Carlyle stepped into view. “Not since he went and found himself a new family.”

“Well, according to the note I’ve been simply instructed to deliver, it seems your son has gotten himself in quite the spot of trouble. Unfortunate, really, seems he’s been taken by some thugs who want money. It’s all in the note, I’m sure.” 

“Yes, well, thank you. We’ll be sure to handle it appropriately.” William Carlyle dismissed the man with his tone alone. 

The man tipped his hat and left. He hoped he hadn’t tipped his hand as well.

Holding the note like it was something poisonous, William Carlyle stepped back inside. Getting his hat and coat, he readied himself to leave. He wanted rid of the thing, and there was only one place that he could think of that would be appropriate to send it along to. 

“Who was that?” His wife asked daintily. 

“Some man, had a note demanding ransom for Phillip.” He spits the name with disgust. “I was just about to deal with it the way it was meant to be. I do believe his ‘new father’ is more than equipped to handle this situation. Don’t you?” He asked primly, the hint of sarcasm evident. 

His wife smiled thinly, a malicious glint coming into her eyes. “That seems wonderful, darling. Perfect, in fact.”

William Carlyle looked up at his wife lovingly. “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t hold dinner on my account. The Johnsons are coming tonight at seven.”

With that, he took his leave through the ornate front entrance.  
—  
Lettie groaned as the exquisite carriage rolled up to the tent. The face within it was not unfamiliar to the circus, nor was it welcome. 

Phillip was missing, the Barnum girls and Anne were hysterical, and the rest of the circus wasn’t too much better. This was not at all what they needed, but Lettie planned to enjoy the next few minutes anyways. 

“Mr. Carlyle. Your son isn’t here, in case you were looking.” 

“I wasn’t, I was looking for the conman that runs this abomination,” He replied. 

“I’m afraid he’s had to take his children home to care for them. Something you wouldn’t know how to do if you were given directions. With pictures.” she added as an afterthought.

The nerve of this woman! “How dare you imply I don’t know how to care for my children. I raised Phillip as best I could, taught him how to be a Carlyle!” 

Lettie snorted. “Taught him. Please. Is that what they call it now?” 

Interested in finishing this, Mr. Carlyle looked her up and down, and drew himself up to his full height. Not that it was intimidating. “Where would I find Mr. Barnum?” He asked flatly. 

Lettie rolled her eyes. “At his home, as I’ve mentioned once already. Please, leave.” This was far more forceful than the first time she’d said those words to Barnum, and she hoped fervently that he would listen better than he did. 

“If you want Phillip to remain alive then I suggest you direct me to his address.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an address, but it’s a large mansion, on the lake. I believe you’ll find them there.”

Turning on his heel, he left. Not so much as a goodbye. 

Lettie considered the retreating carriage. Good riddance. She turned and went back inside to rejoin her friends. Anne needed her. They all needed each other.  
—  
Charity rolled her eyes, much like Lettie had, when the carriage rolled to a stop below their overlook. 

Phineas was inside, with Anne and the girls. The circus had hailed her a carriage to go with her brother to the estate. Following Mr. Carlyle’s departure, she had broken down, pleading to see Barnum, Charity and the girls. They were all she had left of a connection to Phillip for now.

It had taken the senior Carlyle longer to find the home than it had for the siblings to get there. After all, they had been there before. 

All of them attempted to provide comfort and reassurance. All of them failed miserably. 

Eventually, Charity had moved the girls to the bed in her bedroom, and Anne had taken very little time to climb into it with them. She woke to the creaking of the carriage wheels in the drive, and stole a glance out the windows. Breathing deeply, steeling herself for the argument sure to come, she wrapped herself in her shawl and made her way down the stairs. 

She swore under her breath. It was him alright. The damned man who had hurt his son so badly was here to...what, exactly, Anne didn’t know. She wouldn’t put it past him to arrive to gloat, or even be the one responsible for this. 

Charity had just opened the door when Anne entered. Nobody was saying anything. Charity was looking at her husband, who was simply glaring with red-rimmed eyes at Mr. Carlyle, full of nothing but hatred and contempt for the man. He knew the sentiment was reciprocated. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnum,” Mr. Carlyle started, without bothering to address Anne. “Hate to interrupt a nice afternoon, but I have something we need to discuss, I’m afraid.”

Charity, ever level-headed, responded curtly. She was already over this interaction. “And what would that be?”

“This,” he said, holding out the piece of paper, “was dropped at my residence not an hour ago. It concerns Phillip and his...predicament I hear he’s gotten into. Considering I no longer have family by that name, I suppose it’s better off with you.” Depositing it in her hand, he turned. Without even a glance back, he left.

“That...SNAKE!” Anne exclaimed. She immediately looked contrite. “Sorry, Mrs. Barnum.”

“It’s quite alright. Can you go fetch Phin? I think this would be best read together.” 

Anne walked off, clearly still angry. 

Upon their return, she opened the note and began to read. 

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle, 

I fear that mincing words is not my forte, so I’ll just go right ahead with it.

I’m afraid that your son, Phillip, has found himself in our hands. He’s alive and, at present, unharmed. We’ve decided that we will release him if you follow these instructions exactly:

Tell nobody, for obvious reasons  
No later than twenty four hours from now, bring $100,000 to 2300 42nd street  
You will be met by an associate to collect the ransom. 

For every hour after the twenty four that you fail to meet us, Phillip will be subjected to pain. If you fail to comply at all, his life will be the price.”

Anne fell to the floor, shock taking her knees out from under her. Charity had rage burning in her eyes and a desire for vengeance in her heart. Barnum was distraught. His shoulders, his entire frame was quaking in fear and anger equally. 

Anne's thick, breathless voice was the first to speak. “How can they just not care? Throw him away...like some piece of trash?” 

Charity rushed over to her. “They don't understand him. They don't like what he does, so they do what they know. It's not his fault at all. It's not anyone's fault but theirs.” She said reassuringly. Anne’s shoulder continued to shake. Charity supported her under her shoulders and escorted her back up the stairs. There was no reason to involve her further at the moment. 

Barnum stood still, looking at the spot where the note had been read. His mind was playing the last line on a loop. He couldn't stop hearing it. 

He'd heard Phillip scream, before. He'd been conscious, briefly, in the fire. He'd never told anyone. Phillip had screamed in pain from the burns, after Barnum had put the flames out on his clothes. Barnum had lifted him, trying to keep him safe from the thick smoke he'd already inhaled so much of and carried him out. The sound still haunted his nightmares.

Phillip had been unconscious when they'd emerged, the screams trapped inside him. 

Barnum imagined those screams now. He wouldn't leave Phillip to suffer again. He wouldn't. 

He couldn’t.  
\---  
Phillip started as he heard the door scrape on its hinges. 

“The note’s been delivered. It was delivered 3 hours ago, as a matter of fact. Only 21 to go before we threaten those darling girls. And before your life gets exponentially worse.” He laughed humorlessly, an ominous undertone to it. “Such a shame we’re not allowed to play with you in the meantime. There are so many things I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Why...me?” Phillip ground out. His shoulders were starting to feel the ache of being tied over the back of a chair.

“Well, if you hadn’t interfered, it wouldn’t be you. It would have been the daughters of that conman. But yet, here you are. And here they aren’t. And now, you’re worth even more.” The tone was sarcastic, teasing. 

“I wouldn’t have let you touch a hair on their head, you bastard.” Phillip said, the heat behind his words unmistakable. 

“Ooh, clearly the time at that circus nonsense has rid you of that silver tongue?”

“Only when my family is threatened.” Philip responded stiffly.

“Your family wasn’t threatened, I really don’t know what you’re on about.” 

Phillip remained silent. 

“Unfortunately, the boss is being nice. At least in my opinion. I’ll be back in a bit with...something, for you to eat.” 

With that, he left. 

Phillip’s blood ran cold. The man’s words sounded eerily similar to his father’s sentiments on the circus family and his relation to them. Could he really have been behind this? Phillip wouldn’t dismiss it completely out of hand. He’d seen what they would do to keep the family name intact. He ran through a list of who else had an issue with the circus, besides the ragtag protesters that were outside the tent at all hours. His father, that Lind woman that caused issues in the paper every once in a while, but she hadn’t been heard from lately, “Mr. Bennett from The Harold,” as PT coined him (it really was funny to hear the little Barnum’s try to get it out quickly)...he couldn’t think of anyone else. 

The door opened, admitting someone new, and Phillip cut off his musings. He could return to them when there was less of a threat at hand. 

The voice was a different one. “I’ve come bearing your lunch.” 

With a grimace, the tray was set down, and while one of his hands was released, he got a look at the unappetizing slop he was being offered. It was a bowl of solid-looking gray something, and a glass of what he thought was supposed to be water, with...things...floating in it. He tried not to look too disgusted. 

“Best eat, it’s all you’ll be offered.” The tray was placed on his lap, precarious at best, and a spoon placed in the free hand. 

Philip ate. It was just as horrid as he’d anticipated. It was as tasteless as it was colorless, and the texture was odd. He continued to choke it down, defeating his gag reflex after every bite. He drank the nasty water, pouring it over a churning stomach. He wanted to vomit. 

As soon as the glass was empty, the spoon was snatched roughly from his hand, and he was manhandled, excessively, back into the ties. 

Without a word, the door closed, and he was left alone.


	4. Wish upon a star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen and Caroline hear things they’re not supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We went on a writing binge again because we love doing this. So enjoy!

The girls had heard the grownups talking downstairs. They had awoken to find Anne gone and had crept their way out of bed in stocking feet. They heard Mr. Carlyle come in, heard Anne cry out in rage. They had to strain to hear what the letter from Phillip’s kidnappers said, and they didn’t completely understand all of it, but it was enough. 

“Helen...they’re gonna kill Phillip!” Caroline cried. She didn’t care if anyone heard them, she was too upset by what she’d heard. 

“No! Not Phillip!” Helen cried. She wasn’t really one to cry, but tears were coming out anyways. 

Caroline dragged her to the window seat. More squished than they were used to, they curled up together. “Is...is Phillip gonna be ok?” 

“He better be. He promised.” Caroline retorted angrily. “If he’s not, I’ll kick him myself.” 

Usually at school she got Helen to do her revenge for her. Her sister wasn’t afraid of getting in trouble. Caroline’s statement showed how angry she was. 

“You’ll kick him harder than I kicked Samantha?” Helen asked in awe. Helen had used all the power she’d built up in ballet to kick her sister’s main bully, who was three years older than them. She totally was old enough to know better, mommy said. 

“I’ll kick him twice as hard. He PROMISED he’d be okay.” 

“We’d better make a wish,” Helen said softly, the tears returning. “Just in case.” 

Caroline knew how to light the wishing machine. Once it was spinning softly, Helen and Caroline closed her eyes. 

“I wish...for Phillip to be okay,” Helen murmured. “Let him be alright.”

“I wish...for Phillip to come home soon.” Caroline whispered. “Please keep him safe.” The last part was barely audible. She refused to believe anything else. 

“Please keep him safe, please,” Helen echoed her sister’s begging tone. 

They jumped, feeling guilty, when they heard a sob behind them. 

“Anne?” They said together. Caroline was the first to reach her. 

“Anne, it’ll be okay. The wishing machine makes your wishes come true.” Caroline said. Anne held her tighter. She was squishing Caroline, but Caroline didn’t want to say anything. It seemed like Anne really needed someone to hold tightly. 

She felt Helen forcibly rearranging Anne’s arms on the other side. They sat like that, piled up like puppies, until Charity came in. “Girls, i know it’s been a lot, but it’s time for dinner.” 

“Mommy, they still have Philip!” Helen exclaimed. 

A strangled sound came from Anne. “It’s alright, we still have to take care of ourselves too, i promise.”

Caroline’s thin voice broke in. “Philip promised, and they still have him.” A few more tears slipped out. 

Charity became uncharacteristically stern. “Caroline, Helen, enough. Go wash for dinner.” 

They knew when Mommy put on that voice they better listen. They scrambled off. 

“Anne?” Charity asked. Her tone had softened. Anne looked up at her, and Charity felt her broken heart break that much more when she saw the look on Anne’s face. “He’ll be alright. Phin won’t let him be anything less.” She said with determination. 

“How...how can you be so sure?” she asked quietly. 

“He’s Phillip Carlyle.” She said with a smile. “And nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to keep him from getting back to you.” 

Anne nodded. 

“Are you ready for dinner?” Charity asked kindly. 

Anne nodded again. “Yeah. Yeah, i think so.” she replied resolutely. 

The two women made their way downstairs, their step lighter than it had been just five minutes before.  
\---  
Philip started when the door opened. He’d been on his way to pleasantly asleep, and he wasn’t sure, but he thought this was the third time they’d come in just as he was drifting off. 

“Hello, pretty boy. We disturb ya?” The man asked, rotten teeth showing through a sinister smile. 

Phillip didn’t reply. He wouldn’t give them a reason for satisfaction. It wasn’t self preservation at the possibility of being struck. It wasn’t.

“Ya know it’s really too bad boss said that we couldn’t hurt you before the 24 hours were up.” 

It didn’t escape Philip’s notice that they were far more careful with their words around him.

“Aww come on.” A new voice echoed from behind his partner, in the doorway. “Can’t we just hurt him a little?” 

“There’s only a few hours left. Think they’re gonna leave you out to dry, Carlyle?” Another taunted. 

“I’d hate to mar that pretty face of yours.” The first man pulled out a dulled knife and pressed it under Phillip’s chin, forcing him to raise his head. 

Phillip tried to keep his breathing steady. “Go ahead. Do it.” He said bravely. “Nobody will miss me. I’ll just be another faceless disappearance.” 

“Oh, but that would take all the fun out of it.” He crooned. He pulled the knife away and sheathed it. “Just gotta wait a little longer. Then we’ll really see if anyone cares about you.” 

Phillip’s heart sank some at that. He wouldn’t tell them that he kept a running list of people who at least tolerated his presence. He wouldn’t tell them the Barnum girls were on it. He definitely wouldn’t tell them his parents weren’t. That was the crux of their plan. If they were going to use that knife on him, Phillip would prefer it be later than sooner. 

“C’mon boys. Let’s leave our princess alone. But don’t worry, Mister Carlyle. We’ll be back.” The ominous tone was his undoing, and he hated himself for the shudder that ran down his frame. His breathing picked up, the adrenaline coming to the forefront after the threat was eliminated. 

He had to get out of here. His parents were never going to pay to free him. And he wouldn’t let them decide his fate. Nor were they EVER going to touch a hair on the Barnum girls’ heads.

Phillip began to fight the ropes with a renewed fervor. He had to get out. He didn’t care about how much noise he was making. He had to get out of here. Find help. Get back to the Barnums. Get back to Anne.


	5. Sleepless in the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody’s getting any sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, writing binge. We hope you enjoy reading as much as we loved writing it!

That night was not restful for anyone in the barnum household.   
—  
 _Barnum could hear philip screaming. He didn’t know where he was, it was a maze of hallways and doors with empty rooms, and there...was that BLOOD?_

_“PHILLIP!” He shouted._

_“P.T.” He could hear Phillip pleading for him amid his screams. “Please, help me!”_

_The screams he was hearing were reminiscent of that night in the fire. Just as pained. Just as fearful. The blood trail was getting thicker, until it had coated his boots._

_“Phillip?” The screams had ceased, and he strained to hear the whimpering cries that were his only clue to where his third child was. He heard it behind the door to his left. Opening it, there he was. Tied to a chair. Head hung low, hair stained red at the tips, shirt cut to ribbons and more red than white._

_There were shadows around him, moving and shifting and teasing. One struck at Phillip with a knife, another brandished a whip, a third moved around, and everywhere he went, there was new blood seeping into the saturated shirt._

_Philip looked up. “YOU DID THIS,” he roared, unusually powerful for the state he was in. “Your girls got me here. You’ve done this. This is by your hand.” He continued to taunt and tease barnum. After a few moments, his head slumped over and his bonds tightened with the extra weight. Blood began to drip from his hands, the bonds cutting into them as well._

_“Philip? Philip, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, i didn't mean to. Please believe me i didn’t mean to i’m so sorry.” The distraught man knelt at his side, clutching him, praying to feel a sign of life. He felt nothing._

_“No, philip, please. No don’t do this now please dear god no please…”_

_Over his endless stream of pleas he hears his beautiful wife’s voice pleading with him. “Phin, it’s alright, come back to me, Phin, please, wake up, it’s alright.”_

_He’s being dragged away from Phillip by some unseen force. “NO! PHILLIP!”_

It’s with Philip’s name on his lips that he wakes.

Charity’s hand is in his hair, the other on his back, rubbing it softly, whispering reassurances and gentle words of comfort. The hand in his hair is a constant pressure, incredibly grounding and calming.

“It was just a dream, Phin. It’s alright. You’re alright. He’ll be alright.” The mindless epithets slip easily from her lips. She’d said them a thousand times if she’d said them once.

“There was blood and he was screaming and i didn’t get to him in time and the ropes and his shirt and…” his breathing is too fast for him to get any other words out. Charity looked at him evenly.

“It’s going to be alright. He’s going to be okay. You know why?”

He shakes his head.

“Because we’re going to get him back. We will. And we will get him through it. We will recover, just like we did last time. WE are ALL going to be alright.”

—  
 _They’re back in the hospital. Anne still has Philip’s hand. The blankets are up to his shoulders. “Philip?” Caroline asks, voice thick with tears._

_There’s no response from the man so still in the bed._

_Anne gently folds the blankets back and screams. He’s covered in, not burns, but blood. “Oh god, philip. What did they do to you, Philip. I’m so sorry. Oh god, philip, please, come back to me. You’ll be okay. Please…” she breaks off into a fresh round of tears. Through her tears, she can hear Caroline and Helen pleading and begging Philip to wake up, please, they’ll be so good. Please just wake up they’ll never ask for candy again ever. Their tone, their words make her cry harder. The hand in hers goes slack, and she swears she stops breathing._

_“Philip?” She whispers. She knows, as soon as she puts her hand in front of his face, that she won’t feel him breathing any longer. She knows, before she does it, she won’t feel his heart, bursting with love, beating any longer. There was too much blood staining the sheets around him._

_“Philip, no, please Philip no not now, not here, noooo” the last word turns into a long moan filled with pain and heartbreak._

_“Anne, it’s alright.” It’s her brother._

_She shakes her head. “He’s gone.”_

She wakes in her brother’s arms, tears streaking her face. She doesn’t need words to tell him what her dream was about. Neither of them sleep again.

Anne sees his broken, bleeding body every time she closes her eyes. WD can’t let her suffer the sleepless night alone. He’d done that one too many nights the last time her hero-lover-ringmaster had been in the hospital.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but he will be alright, Anne.” He whispers forcefully. It’s somewhere close to daylight, he can see it peeking over the trees. She’s relaxed against him, not quite asleep, not quite awake.

“He will be.” It’s supposed to sound like a statement, but from her, it’s still a question. Even with the low murmured tone, he can hear the defeat.

“We will get him back, I don’t care who we have to kill to do it. The circus doesn’t leave anyone behind.” If he had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t leave him again. Plus, he needed a lesson or two on how to be less of a self-sacrificing idiot. W.D. had been wanting to give him one of those.   
—  
Helen woke up with a start. Caroline was crying in her bed. She walked over to her, trying to be quiet.

“Caroline? Caroline!”

“Phillip!” Caroline woke with a sob. Helen wrapped her little arms around her.

“I miss him too!”

“What’re they doing with him?” Caroline sobbed. “I want him back!”

Caroline tugged on her sister. “I want mommy and daddy.” She said thickly.

They ran down the hallway towards their parents room. Caroline shook her father’s arm and Helen shook their mother.

Only just having gotten back to sleep, they were up quickly. “Caroline?” Barnum muttered.

On his other side, his wife was equally alert just as swiftly, and just as confused. “Helen?” She asked.

Now that their parents were awake, they wasted no time scrambling into their arms. “They had philip and they were hurting him.”

Helen talked over her sister “he was all bloody and hurting and anne and everyone was crying.”

Caroline raised her voice in response “He wouldn’t wake up and he was hurting lots and it was awful!” She burst into sobs.

The sound of her distress set her sister off and she broke into sobs as well.

“It’s alright, shhh...it’s gonna be ok, girls. He’s gonna come back, and he’s gonna be okay.” They whispered, Charity with more conviction than Barnum. He was still half shaking from what he had seen in his own nightmares. Charity looped an arm around her husband as well as her girls. “It’s going to be okay. But philip needs us to take care of ourselves, too. Do you think you can sleep?”

Caroline shook her head, tears coming back to her eyes. “I-I-I’ll see them...h-hurt him again.”

Helen just held onto her mother. She rarely showed emotion, but so much had happened in her little world she didn’t know what to do anymore. One thing was for certain. If Phillip ever came back Helen was gonna hold onto him and never let him go again.   
—  
The next morning at breakfast, there were many dark circles around red-rimmed eyes.

It was the quietest meal Charity had ever had with her daughters. They just sat and ate with their best table manners, and looked at charity desperately to be excused. No words were exchanged.

Anne just picked at her food until WD kicked her softly under the table. She did this every time she was nervous, and he couldn’t watch her do it again. A pointed look had her bringing small bites of food to her mouth, however reluctantly.

Barnum didn’t eat anything. He sat and stared out the windows, eyes not seeing the gardens laid out in front of him, but the haunting visions of dreams. He didn’t even blink. Every time he closed his eyes he could hear the screams, see Phillip’s beaten face and the blood dripping from his bound wrists. He could still feel how still his body had been.

“ _P.T. Help. Please.”_ He could hear him begging without even closing his eyes.

 _I will_ , he promised silently. He wouldn’t leave him behind. 


	6. Time's (Almost) Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip's kidnappers cross a line, and make a major mistake: Don't mess with P.T. Barnum's kids

Philip was beginning to hate the sound of that damned door. It would haunt his dreams, and affect his daily life, he was sure of it. 

“There are only a couple hours left, Philly.” The man taunted. 

Phillip could barely raise his head, he was so exhausted. 

“You better hope mommy and daddy pull through for you.” 

 

They won’t. Trust me, he thought morosely. He figured he couldn’t do worse than what his father had done, and if they killed him, as seemed to be their endgame, that was how he was meant to go. 

But he only wished he could see Anne one last time, tell her goodbye, that he was sorry. He wished to thank Barnum for improving his life, showing him love, being more of a father than Phillip’s ever was, more than he’d ever deserve. He wanted to see Helen, hear her laugh, spin her that one last time. See Caroline twirl across the stage, happy as she’d ever been. See the show one last time. Feel the magic crawl underneath his skin, then he could die happy. 

He’d loosened his binds somewhat with all his struggling earlier, but that hadn’t done him much good at all now. He could feel the warm liquid dripping down his hands, but he wouldn’t let it deter him. Maybe he could do it. He had to try.   
—  
PT Barnum was a man full of ideas, a man who never stopped moving, a man who had to be reigned into reality because he took what was given and substituted in his own. In short, he was a hard man to freak out.

Yet here he was. His mind was still replaying the awful images of his dreams, his hands still felt the still body of Phillip, his mind could still conjure up the sickly sweet smell of blood coating his boots. (That, however, was definitely NOT the reason he was going about the house in his socks.) He was aware there were only hours left to rescue him intact, but he was rooted to his chair. He hadn’t moved, not since breakfast. 

Caroline had tried enticing him into coming into the library, reading with her and Helen, but he hadn’t heard her. He was physically present, but not mentally. His head was still in that dark basement with Phillip’s still body. With the shadows. Charity’s hand across his back, and her voice at his ear, caused him to jump. 

“Phin?” She asked carefully. 

He didn’t respond to her, just buried his head in her hip. 

“I know,” Charity whispered. “God, Phin, I know. But we only have a few hours left to make a plan for how to do this. We can’t save Phillip by sitting here, worrying about him.” 

Phineas’ brain latched onto the idea. “We can do something. We can. WD, Anne!” He called. He realized it wasn’t dissimilar to the way he’d called them the night he’d hired Phillip. Ignoring the stab of pain through his heart, he rose as they entered the room. 

“We’re going to get Phillip back.” He stated. 

WD looked at him skeptically. “And how do you suggest that?” 

“I’m P.T. Barnum. And you’re members of the Greatest Show on Earth. We can do anything.” 

WD resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Right. And how do you suggest finding him? And fighting off whoever took him? Without getting Phillip, and all of us, killed,” He stated emphatically. “They aren't just going to let us waltz in there and ask politely for Phillip back.” 

Barnum nodded. “That’s where you two come in.” 

Anne huffed indignantly. “Right. What can we do?” Her tone was doubtful, sarcasm oozing through her words. 

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion, and all four stopped breathing. “No...nonononononono,” Anne started muttering dazedly, her words and her breaths coming faster. 

Barnum was once again rooted to the spot, and WD stared at the door like it was going to explode.

Charity looked at them, steeled herself, and opened the door. 

Another man stood there, raggedy and rank, and he handed a note to Charity. “I don’t know nothin’” he added unnecessarily. Anne took the chance of the other two’s shock to slip out the window, following the man quietly. She would find out where her love was, even if it was the last thing she did. 

She followed him carefully, making a note of every turn he took, and where. She didn’t bother with the street names, just the landmarks. Right at the flower shop, left at the bagel bakery, the left fork at that oddly shaped, blunt nosed building with a bar underneath. She trailed him well through the city to the other end, the higher-end area. He ducked into a building, and Anne made a specific note of which. She had to remember. 

She took the shortest route back to the house, and was surprised to see everyone clutching the children in the hall. 

“What...what happened?” 

Barnum’s face was like a volcano. Dark, hot anger was simmering directly under the surface. “They threatened my girls. And nobody gets away with that.”

“I...I found where they have him.” His anger made her bravado fade away. “I followed him through the city. I know where he is.”

WD reacts first. “YOU DID WHAT?” Hearing the girls’ cries get louder, he softens his tone. “What were you thinking?” 

“They have Phillip, and they’re gonna start hurting him in about two hours if we don’t do something. That’s what I was thinking,” She spits back at him. 

He’s torn between shaking her and sweeping her into a high tower to keep her safe. “Can you get us back there?” He asks. 

Anne rolls her eyes. “That was the point.” The unspoken insult hangs in the air. 

Barnum starts as if he’s been shocked. “Then let’s go!” He said, already preparing to get a carriage in motion. 

“We should bring the girls to the circus, they’ll be safe there.” 

“If we go to the circus it’ll become a rescue party, bigger than just us.” Charity said sensibly. 

“And maybe that won’t be a bad thing?” Anne questioned softly. “We could use the extra hands. And everyone’s worried about him.” 

Charity nodded reluctantly. “Let’s go then.” 

They piled into the carriage. it wasn’t meant to hold all of them, but it would. It helped that the two little girls wouldn’t let go of Barnum and WD, so the adults had enough seats. They were all thinking the same thing on the way there. 

Nobody was getting away with threatening their girls. Or Phillip. There was just no way.


	7. A Big Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is where the torture happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really sorry

Philip heard a new noise coming down the hallway. It sounded like something was rolling, and something was clattering on top of it. The sound made his stomach drop to his toes. 

Philip’s stomach turned to ice. This was it. It was now or never. The door opened to him desperately pulling at his bound hands. He was so close. 

“Boss said we could start a little early. Said we may as well get somethin’ out of it and that they’d be by later. Wanted to ask you somethin’?”

“There’s no point in struggling. A sailor tied those himself.” Phillip filed the information away, that they had a sailor with them. 

One of the men walked behind Phillip and inspected the bonds. He grunted. “I’m a little impressed you got this far. Not bad.” 

Philip didn’t say anything, he felt hands poking at the knots he’d yet to pick. Then he felt his hands being untied, and Phillip took his chance. He sprang from the chair and tried to run, but he was tired and weak. He made it to the door before his efforts were met by half a dozen hands seizing him roughly. 

He was shoved back into the chair and forced down onto the seat. His hands were roughly retied behind him, more tightly, and he could feel that this time, there was no chance of escape. Not anymore. 

“You really shouldn’t’ve done that.” One of them said angrily. His shirt was unceremoniously ripped open, buttons popping everywhere. A knife, not the dull one from the day before, but a freshly sharpened one, was held before him. “I’ve been waiting to do this all day.” 

“Remember that he has to stay alive,” another reminded his friend. “Just for a little longer. That’s the deal.” 

“We said that we would give him back alive. There was nothing saying we couldn’t rough him up a little first.” 

And then the first cut opened on Phillip’s chest. 

He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry out, although it took all his effort. He would stay strong until his last breath. He would not let them have the last laugh. 

He was cut again, on his shoulder blade this time. Each of his tormentors had taken up a knife now, and were circling him like hyenas around a kill. 

One of the men hit the back of his head, hard, and Phillip saw stars for a brief moment but forced himself to stay conscious. 

The pattern continued over and over, the cutting and beating and pain. But there were no screams from Phillip. 

Finally, there was a brief pause in his torture, and one of the men pressed the newer, shinier blade under his chin, like he had with his duller knife earlier. “I hate to mar such a pretty face.” The teeth that he showed when he grinned made Phillip shudder. “But I think I’ll get over it. I think I’ll start...here.” He let the point of the blade come to on his cheek, just beneath Phillip’s right eye, and stabbed just a little. 

That’s when Phillip began to cry out. “God, please stop!” He begged. 

The point was driven in deeper, practically carving him. He screamed for the pain to end.


	8. Pulling Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip sees a familiar face, and the circus crew makes a plan
> 
> All you BAMF Charity Barnum fans this one's for you

Phillip heard that damned door open again. This time, there were new footsteps. Lighter, somehow, dantier almost. A woman? Phillip couldn’t fathom a woman getting involved in such dirty business. One of them walked behind him, and tangled their fingers in his hair. They wrenched his head up forcefully, and Philip was sure he’d be a few hairs shorter when all was said and done. He would be a few breaths of life short. 

He observed who was in front of him, and she was unmistakable. The fiery red hair, the English lilt to her voice. There was no question.

The one who ran all this was none other than the Swedish Nightingale herself. Jenny Lind. 

“So much for the heart of gold,” Phillip grunted with as much force as he could muster in his condition. 

“Do you truly think I make that much money on the opera, dear? I must give something back to the poor people of the world that your ilk chews up and spits out.” Jenny said, her tone almost gentle, but an underlying coldness was present. There was a subtle bitterness as well, a distaste for the upper class. And for P.T. Barnum.“I don’t usually get involved with this sort of thing, not to my taste, but this one’s special. Wasn’t even my idea, though I do like it. Almost poetic justice.” 

She turned to her associates. “I thought I told you not to hurt him till time was up?” 

“He was trying to escape,” one of the men defended. “Thought we’d make sure he couldn’t do it again.”

Jenny’s eyes turned on him. “I wouldn’t peg you to be a brave man, Phillip Carlyle, but that took bravado, must say I’m impressed.” 

She pulled out an ornate golden pocket watch and checked the time. “Did they pay? Time’s been up for half an hour.” She addressed her men this time.

Her smile chilled Phillip to his core. Jenny wasn’t even being malicious. She was simply indifferent to whether he lived or died. Just like his parents. All she cared about was her Robin Hood scheme, and Phillip already knew the answer. 

“Nope,” her associates grinned. 

Jenny shrugged. “Alright, then, proceed. I really must be going. I have a show tonight, and only a little bit to curtain, but nice chatting with you, Phillip dear.” She brushed a finger across his chest, and he writhed in pain as she sashayed out of the room and her friends turned to face Phillip. 

He didn’t think he had anything left in him to scream. Jenny Lind’s men drew it out of him with knives.   
—  
Anne led WD and Barnum to the house they had Philip in. Barnum’s intake of breath was enough to tell her that whatever they were up against was not of small size. 

“Phineas?” The performers didn’t usually called the ringmaster by his first name, but this wasn’t a usual situation. 

“Shit. This isn’t good.” He looked up at the ornate home, designed almost to look like the outside of an opera house. He spun on them. “This,” he said, pointing emphatically at the home behind him, “THIS is Jenny Lind’s house. She’s part of the biggest group in the city. They’ve ordered hits on people across the COUNTRY.” His breath was coming quicker now. 

Anne barely held herself together. “No, please, no, that can’t mean what i think it means. Please, Barnum, no.” She was begging him to fix something out of his control. He was so frustrated this was something he couldn’t fix.

WD embraced her, closing out the world around her, the only sensations were his smell, and his heartbeat. She closed her eyes, and timed her breathing with his. She felt him carrying her, like he had when she was a child, and she let herself relax, and focus on keeping herself together. Phillip didn’t need her hysterical like some upper class fool. She needed to be level headed, and if Barnum was planning what she thought he was, she needed to be limber and warm. She tapped WD, and he slid her down in one fluid movement. She walked the rest of the way to the circus, where they were met by an angry troupe. 

“Why didn’t we come?”

“Where’s Phillip?”

“What’s going on?”

“When are we getting him?”

“How did you find him?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Who has Phillip?”

“Who took him?” 

Their questions were piling on top of each other, and they almost crushed Anne. She wanted to give them coherent, calm answers, but she was on the verge of hysteria. Barnum wasn’t much better. 

“Everyone, calm down!” Charity yelled over the din. Shockingly, the noise went completely silent. She walked over to her husband, a glare keeping the rest of the performers silent as stones. Putting a hand under her husband’s shoulders, she led him to the bleachers. WD followed with his sister. 

“Now, all of you, sit down.” They did without question. Apparently, her “mom-voice” worked on everyone. “Give it a few minutes, and we will have the answers for you.” 

She focused back on her husband. “I’ll talk to them,” she told him as gently as she could, “But I need answers first, and only you know what’s going on, love.” Charity tried to hide it, but she was on the verge of a breakdown herself. Phineas and Anne may have been vocal about their nightmares, but Charity had been having a few of her own as well. 

“Jenny...Jenny Lind…this is her sick, twisted way of getting back at me. It has to be. She used her damned mafia fiends to try and take the girls, and now they’ve got Phillip, child number three.” He stumbled over his words a t first, but his simmering anger steadied his words as it shook his hands. “She had to have known the Carlyles wouldn’t pay. She probably knows them personally. She was probably planning on taking all three in the first place.” His anger is all encompassing now. He was done with someone hurting his kids. 

Charity’s face twisted in anger. “That snake of a woman,” she muttered, tone dangerous. “Those bastards. The upper class, i swear I will NEVER understand them. How can someone be so indifferent about the lives of people they say that they love, people they’re related to, have given birth to for Christ's sake!”

Phin reached out a shaky hand. “I don’t know darling. But we need to bring..bring him back.” His words caught in his throat. He hated the bitter taste they had. “We have to rescue him.” His conviction was back with force. 

Charity nodded. As usual, he was right. “But how?” She wondered aloud. 

Charles answered heartily. “Storm the place!”

The troupe cheered behind him. 

WD shook his head. “No good. That wouldn’t work in a million years.” 

Anne looked at him acidly. “What do you suggest?” The acid seeped into her tone. When he didn’t answer, she eyed the rest of the troupe. “Well?” 

The silence reverberated through the tent loudly.

“So, storm the place it is?” 

“Maybe not storm the place.” P.T.’s conviction was almost chilling. “But it’s been years since I was able to do any breaking and entering.”

“Anne and WD, how are you with trees? Charles, you have quiet steps, we’re gonna need em. Lettie, gonna need you to roll up your sleeves again.”

Charity stood off to the side, watching Anne with the girls on the hoop. Anne was too fragile for the discussion going on, she’d be involved later. If Phin even THOUGHT about getting the girls involved, she’d string him by his ankles from the tent’s flag. Right next to Jenny Lind. Right now, this was healing for all of them.

As much as Charity didn’t want to admit it, her heart was broken, too.

She had tried to stay strong for her husband, for her daughters, and for Anne, but now that was taking its toll. When Phineas had come home that night, last night. Could it really have been last night? Charity felt as of it had been so much longer.   
When Phineas had come home with a pale face, two screaming children and no Phillip, Charity had known something was off. Then her daughter had screamed it: They took Phillip. 

Charity had hoped that this was all a nightmare. A horrible dream. Nobody had really taken her son. He was just out with Anne, or finishing up a few things at the circus. 

But the note had confirmed her worst fears, and she was so wrapped up in taking care of everyone else she wasn’t giving herself time to process. But now was not the time for that. Her boy needed her. Both of her boys needed her. And the 24 hours had passed. The clock on Phillip’s life was ticking. 

“Phin, what’s the plan?” she came back to herself suddenly. 

he turned to look at her. “We’re getting Phillip back?” he questioned. 

Charity rolled her eyes, honest to god rolled them. “I KNOW that part. I meant how?” she said slowly. 

“A little breaking and entering, then make it up from there.” 

Charity swore her heart skipped a beat. “MAKING IT UP?” she yelled. She was so fed up with this situation and the flippant way her husband was handling it. “PHINEAS TAYLOR BARNUM YOU BEST HAVE A BETTER PLAN THAN MAKING IT UP, OR I SWEAR TO THE HEAVENS ABOVE YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF ATOP YOUR BODACIOUS FLAG POLE.”

Barnum, with no qualms that his wife would decidedly follow through on her threat, backed down like the lions when they were threatened. He knew when he was beaten. 

“Breaking and entering, finding Phillip, and leaving very quickly?” 

It wasn’t the best he’d ever come up with. “Nobody goes ANYWHERE alone, am I clear? Also, I’m coming.”

They all wanted so badly to give a cheeky “Yes, mom.” They held themselves in, for fear they would be the next threatened by the flagpole. And as for her coming along, nobody dared argue with her. Not in this state. 

“Right then. Let’s go. The clock is ticking.” Her prim composure was such a turnaround from her demeanor only moments ago that they were stunned into compliance. 

“Let’s go,” her husband agreed. Time was up.


	9. Rescue pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue commences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been on a binge lately. Enjoy!

Phillip was tired. More tired than he could ever remember being. He knew, logically, some of it was due to blood loss, but some of it he was sure was because they kept waking him from a light slumber, that lovely place right before you start dreaming. And they’d leave him for hours, and he’d get right to that precipice before the door opened, admitting knives and rotten teeth and fear again and again. 

The next knife sliced him on his arm, perpendicular to a different one, and he couldn’t even be bothered to scream any longer. He just writhed in pain when it hit him. They ran over a scabbing slice on his chest, and that did give him cause to scream. It was a shriek, with how sore his throat was, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears mixed with the still-oozing blood from the hole in his face, causing it to burn. 

“If only they’d paid, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” One of them laughed. 

A commotion above them gave them pause. The grip on his hair loosened and he allowed his head to slump down. He didn’t have the strength to hold it up. 

“Phillip!” It has to be the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, above Caroline laughing and Anne being Anne. It’s PT Barnum, calling his name. 

“You’ll scream for him alright.” One of them muttered in his ear. “We’ll make sure he finds you.” 

Their knives found more unbroken skin, sank deeper in their carelessness. Phillip screamed in pain. 

“Phillip!” Barnum’s voice was closer now, panicked. 

“P.T.!” Phillip screamed. “Anne! Run!” 

Their knives found more purchase, one sinking it’s teeth into his ankle. “P.T. HELP! PLEASE!” He cried out. All his bravado was fading with his consciousness. He just wanted out of here. 

“PHILLIP!” This time it was lettie’s voice. 

“No, run, please.” He cried out again, following it with an absolutely feral cry of pain from a knife. He heard the door open, and prayed it was P.T. as his attacker ran off.  
—

P.T. ran down the hall, not caring how much noise he was making, if whoever had Phillip wanted to come after him, all the better. At least he wouldn’t be with Phillip. 

PT refused to look down, lest he see a recurrence of his nightmare. It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Then he heard the screaming start. Phillip’s screams pierced the silence, hitting his ears like a hammer. They were exactly as P.T. had heard them in the fire, in his nightmares, in his recent waking hours. Just as pained. Just as fearful. 

He burst through the door the screams had come from, and it was just as bad as his nightmares. He was soaked with blood, bruises, tied to the chair, everything. Except this time it was worse. This time it was real. “Phillip. Oh, god. Phillip.” he whispered, starting to rush over to him. “HELP! WE NEED HELP!” he bellowed. He prayed someone would hear him. Anne, beautiful, wonderful, terrified Anne rushed through the door. 

“No, Anne. Go, please.”   
Phillip whimpered in pain. Barnum didn’t want this to be her last image of him. 

“Hell no, Barnum.” She steeled herself, and together they started towards him again, when a chilling voice came from behind Phillip. 

“I wouldn’t come any closer if you want him to live.” 

Barnum didn’t remember this happening in his dream. This was so much worse. He turned his head from side to side, searching for who had said those words when Anne stifled a scream. 

Barnum whirled back to Anne, who was staring at Phillip. At the sharp, shining blade pressed against his throat.

“You don’t want to do this.” He tried to keep his tone even, but the waver at the end belied his fear. 

“We just want to keep what’s ours. At any cost.” 

“Let him go,” Anne pleaded. “Haven’t you hurt him enough?” 

“It will never be enough. Not for the fast and loose way they play with lives, with other’s livelihoods.” the voice came from a corner, and Barnum knew it, but couldn’t place it.

Barnum had tried to slip around the room to get to Phillip, maybe take out whoever held the blade, but the mafia member dug his blade a little deeper into his hostage’s throat. “You’re gonna kill him,” he growled, turning his head in the ringmaster’s direction.

“Look.” Barnum was desperate now. “Whatever your issues are, he has no part in it any longer. He’s been disowned by his own family. Why do you think we’re here? We have no allegiance to the Carlyles. None at all. They left him here. They were never going to pay. How long would it have taken you to realize?”

“You think this is about the Carlyles?” The man suddenly started to laugh. “God, it was worth keeping the kid alive just to hear that. This was never about the Carlyles. Not then. Not now. The whole ransom thing was just a convenient way to make a buck. This was never about them. This is about you and your goddamned circus.” 

Barnum was stunned, to say the least. 

“Perhaps I should let her explain.” 

Jenny Lind, the Swedish Nightingale, stepped into the lights. “Mr. Barnum, what a displeasure to see you and your sideshow novelties wreaking such havoc in my home. Goodness, do you have to break everything you touch?”


	10. And we will come back home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescued, phillip gets the TLC He deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Barnum was shocked to see her normally sweet face twisted into such anger. “Jenny Lind, as I live and breathe.” 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Barnum. And what are your terms?” 

“Terms?”

“Yes, your terms of release.”

“Just let the boy go, Jenny. He has no part in whatever dispute you have with me.” 

Jenny turned her head away from their discussion for a moment. “Miss Wheeler, any closer, and he dies. Honestly you two, no originality. I’d have thought P.T. Barnum would be a bit more creative than this. Sneaking about in equal measure, both trying to free the same man.” She clucked her tongue. 

Barnum could envision the scowl that had overtaken her face. Suddenly, he heard what had to have been the best sound he’d heard since they entered the home. “Barnum!”

It was Lettie calling for him, to show her, and undoubtedly the troupe, where to go. “In here!” he called out with a smirk in Lind’s direction. “I do believe we’ll be going shortly.” he said with his showman’s smirk. 

The look that passed over Jenny’s face was similar to the one Helen got when she wasn’t allowed to swing from the banisters to ‘be like Anne’. Then, her sweet smile returned. “Did you forget exactly why you came here? Classic. Unfortunately for your little troupe, I still have the upper hand.” 

She turned back to Phillip and his captor, whose knife was still tightly held against his throat. He hadn't forgotten his purpose. “Cut his throat.” Words from the showman gave her pause.

“Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. A shame you never actually saw my show. You’d know we have so much talent to challenge your unskilled, ragtag group.”

He ducked, and a knife flew just past her ear. The man with the knife looked at her anxiously. His bravado was fading. 

Another knife flew, slicing open his arm. Just a graze, but it burned nonetheless. Knowing he was beat, he made a hasty retreat from the room. Now it was just Jenny, Anne, and Barnum. 

The peace didn’t last long. The rest of the troupe came storming in, nearly trampling their ringmaster in their anger. Lettie pointed to Jenny, and the Irish Giant lifted her as the strong man tied her bonds. Anne and Barnum took the chance to run to Phillip. 

“Told you...to go...to run…” he slurred. Then, just as Anne reached out to feel his face, make sure he was real, he jerked forward. 

Barnum loses it. “Phillip Phillip no Phillip please no no no no no no nonononononononono…” His dazed mutterings are of no distraction to Anne, who immediately went behind the chair to untie his hands. They were still dripping blood. 

Hands on his face bring him back to himself. He blinks, and there’s a blurry Lettie in front of him. “He’s still breathing. You need to focus. Look at me. Look right at me. He’s still alive.” His eyes drift over to where Anne has laid him on the floor, and sees the shallow rise and fall of his chest. His breathing slows. 

“Let’s...let’s get out of here.” he whispered. Lettie hauled him to his feet, and they go over to where WD has gathered Philip in his arms. He’d lost the battle with consciousness shortly after he’d realized he’d been safe. They troop out the door, trailing blood through the house. They couldn’t be bothered to care. They had what they came for. 

“We need to get him to a hospital.” 

Anne shakes her head. “Please...no. Please don’t. I can’t...we can’t...not again.” 

“He needs a doctor, Anne,” Charity said gently. She had wiped away her tears and gathered herself together after she had seen Phillip safe. 

“I...I know. Just...please. Not the hospital. Not again.”

Charity shared a look with her husband, who looked just as disheveled. “Alright. We’ll bring him to the circus. But if the doctor says…” she trailed off, the implications clear.

Anne nodded. “Yes, i know. But please, not to start.” 

The group trailed through the streets. They took shortcuts, but it still felt like too long before they saw the outline of the circus tent. There was a collective sigh of relief. They rushed through the grounds to Philip’s tent, laying him on his bed. It felt right to have him back there. 

Someone had summoned a doctor on their walk, stopping to fetch them and then rushing to catch up. He cleared the room. 

“Out. I need space to work.” His manner was gruff, but his eyes were kind enough. The majority of the troupe left, demanding updates if he only twitched. 

Anne, Charity, And P.T. didn’t leave. The doctor took one look at their faces and allowed them to remain. That was not an argument he figured on winning. 

After a while, he concluded his examination. “As long as they are kept clean, they should not become infected. I’ve sutured them closed. He’s to stay in bed until he feels no pain on the surface, and then only small movements.”

Charity nodded, and thanked him. “How much?” She asked. 

The doctor waved her off. “This one I can do for free.” 

Charity, despite every instinct screaming otherwise, escorted him out to the front gate. 

“Are you sure that you don’t want payment?” She asked hesitantly. 

The doctor looked at her. “I’m sure.” With that, he left. Charity turned, and went back inside.

The image of Anne clutching Phillip’s hands was all too familiar. 

Charity ran a kind hand over Anne’s hair. “He’s going to be alright. He will. Helen and Caroline and the entire circus won’t let him be anything less.”

Anne nodded. “My head knows that, but my heart is still working on getting there.” 

Charity looked at her husband, hovering by Phillip’s bedside. He’d done that when caroline had caught the flu, as well, and practically didn’t leave her until she was better. Charity suspected that the case would be similar here. 

“Rest, you two. He’s going to be alright. We have him back, and we will be alright. We will be.” She would make sure of it.


	11. Not Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip might be home, but everything is not what it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry! I was on vacation and my mom is not a fan of me writing so I'm SORRY!! But we are back in business and hope you enjoy!

_ He was back in the dingy, dark room they’d been holding him in. the knives were slicing him open, the metal white-hot and burning his already scarred flesh.  _

 

_ He screamed.  _

 

_ The knives left him, but they continued to taunt him, reminding him he was at their mercy and that nobody, nobody, was coming for him. He was alone.  _

 

_ “No,” he muttered desperately. “No, they won’t leave me here.”  _

 

_ “How can you be so sure?” the voices were taunting him.  _

 

_ They’ve begun to rock his chair, shaking him around. “Phillip...Phillip…” the voice changes, it's lighter now.  _

 

_ “No...go away...no Lind...I won’t let you.”  _

 

_ “PHILLIP!” it exclaims.  _

 

_ He opens his eyes and sees... _ a room, his usual guest room...at the Barnum's. 

 

He wasn’t there. He was alive, and he was safe. 

 

Only then did he let the tears fall. “Shhh…it’s alright. You’re here. We’re here.” It’s Anne. he lets himself sob, feeling the fear from the last days draining. He winds his hands into her dress, pulling her closer by sheer force of will. He dug his head into the crook of her neck. Her hand finds its way to the back of his neck, and he melts. 

 

“It’s alright. You’re here. I’m here, you’re going to be alright. It’s alright. You’re safe. I don’t think any of us are going to let you out of our sight for the next ten years. It’s alright.” 

 

His sobs were tapering off. He stayed curled into her, taking in the comfort of her. She just held him, stroking his hair and murmuring soft words of comfort.  

 

“I love you.” he whispered. 

 

Her hand finds his cheek in the dark. “I love you too.” A soft hand ran over the spot where they dug the point of the knife into his face, and his breath caught. “Phillip?” 

 

He shakes his head. He just wants to sleep, but if he does, he’ll see them again. They’ll have their knives and their pain and their taunting. “Phillip, you need to sleep,” she whispered thickly. 

 

“I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t, I can’t.” His muttering was more desperate, panicked. 

 

“Shh, shh,” Anne said gently. “It’s alright, nothing’s going to hurt you.” 

 

When it was clear that basic reassurances weren’t going to placate him, she looked at him. “We can stay awake, and I promise i will wake you if you start having a nightmare. Is that alright?” 

 

Phillip nodded. 

 

Anne started whispering a story, weaving one about her childhood. She kept one hand running across his shoulders, holding him close. She would ask him questions every once in a while, and she would slow her voice as his answers took longer to form behind his lips. She ran a gentle hand through his hair every once in a while, carefully putting him to sleep. She felt it when he dropped into sleep, and she didn’t leave his side as he slept.

 

She was paranoid that if she took her eyes off him, even for a moment, he would disappear, go back into that fire, or that dark room where they’d found him. And this time, he wouldn’t come back out. He wasn’t the only one with nightmares of fire, of blood and pain. 

 

She curled herself around him, resting her head on his shoulder. She didn’t want to sleep. She knew what awaited her in her dreams. Every time her eyes closed, she opened them again. She didn’t want to sleep.

 

_ “Phillip?” she called. They were back in the circus. The old circus. The one that had burned down. Phillip had to be in here.  _

 

“ _ ANNE HELP!” she heard the yell and began to race towards where it came from. She felt like she was racing the shadows following her. Philip was in front of her, tied to that goddamned chair that haunted her nightmares and her waking hours. But the closer she got, the farther he seemed to get.  _

 

_ Then the building began to burn.  _

 

_ “No, please. No. Phillip!” she cried out. She ran towards him, knowing her efforts would be pointless.  _

 

_ “Goodbye, Anne,” Phillip said softly. “ANNE! ANNE!” His voice was louder, more desperate.  _

_ She resisted the urge to run back to him. He was calling out to her, he needed her.  _

 

_ “Please, no, I’m trying to save you!” She screamed.  _

 

_ “I’m alright. We’re alright.” he was whispering now, closer than she had been able to get. She could feel him holding her. “I’m here, Anne. Wake up.”  _

 

Anne gasped, waking herself. Now it was her turn to pull him closer, and he thumbed the tears off her cheeks. She buried her head in his chest, and she felt a gentle hand running up and down her back. 

 

Phillip knew that she had to work it out herself, that he was alright, that she was alright, that everything was going to be okay. It wasn't the first time she'd woken from a nightmare. They'd done this plenty of times, and he always reassured her. 

 

It was going to be alright.

 

If Phillip was being honest,  _ he  _ wasn’t sure that everything would be okay. But he had to believe it. For both of them.

 

“I’m okay,” he promised. He held her tightly, reassuring her. “Sleep. We'll be alright,” he promised.

 

And he hoped he was right. 

 

“I can’t sleep,” Anne murmured into his ear. “I can’t.” She knew that she should be the one comforting Phillip, after all, he was the one who’d gone through all the suffering of the past few days. But the events had taken their toll on her too. 

 

“We can. We'll do it together.” He promised her. He knew they needed to sleep, despite the images that haunted their dreams. And he didn't doubt that Charity and Phineas would have a thing or two to say if they didn’t get their rest. He suspected they had things to help, but he knew from experience it made the dreams more vivid. 

 

He pulled her against him, ignoring the pain it ignited, and tucked her into him. His hand found her hair, and he stroked it, occasionally winding a few strands around his fingers. She fell asleep like that, leaving him to the silence of the midnight hours.

 

He kept his fingers busy in her hair. He would tell her in the morning that of course he went back to sleep. But he knew he couldn’t. Not now. He would continue to see the haunting images, continue to be flayed alive. He took deep breaths, trying not to let his mind bring back the memories he would store for the rest of his life. 

 

“Phillip?” A gentle voice came from the doorway.

 

Charity Barnum stood there, watching Phillip with a motherly concern.

 

“Sorry. Did we wake you?” His tone was remorseful, guilty of something he didn't even know yet. 

 

“Of course not. Even if you did, it would be alright. I just don't think any of us want to let you out of our sight long enough.” It had started out lightly enough, but turned somber.

 

“I’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure her. 

 

“Phillip, it's alright to not be okay, you know.”

 

“I know.” But that wouldn’t stop him from trying to be okay. There were too many ramifications if he wasn’t. He needed to be okay to be ringmaster, to be big brother, a son, to be who everyone needed him to be. 


	12. Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen and Caroline were affected by this whole ordeal. But nobody's realized how badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoy! If you're wondering what the heck, see the previous chapter for an explanation. Enjoy!

__

Phillip’s recovery was frustratingly slow. He knew, logically, it had only been 2 days, and that it takes time to heal. Hell, he was well aware of that after the fire. But it didn’t make it any less frustrating. As someone who, much like P.T. Barnum, was at his best when he was up and moving around, coming up with some new crazy scheme, being trapped in bed was like a punishment. 

 

Anne Wheeler was by no means a weak woman. She was as strong-willed as a bull and was not afraid to voice her thoughts. Phillip, however, was equally as stubborn, and she found him to be her greatest trial yet. 

 

“But Anne, I feel  _ fine _ !” Phillip exclaimed. 

 

Anne rolled her eyes. If she had a penny for every time she heard that, she wouldn’t have to work a day in her life. “No, Phillip Bailey Carlyle, you are not getting out of bed. The doctor said rest. Does that have any meaning in that Oxford-educated brain of yours?” 

 

Phillip blushed. He knew she had him. “Fine. But don’t complain when I’m annoying you because i’m bored to tears” 

 

“Fair enough,” Anne said. A teasing glint came into her eye. “Do you want a book, or do you want to draw pictures?”

 

Phillip leveled a glare at her. “Anne…” he growled, no force behind it. 

 

She laughed at his attempt to be intimidating. “You don’t scare me. A book it is.” She left the room with a laugh shaking her shoulders. 

 

Almost as soon as she’d left, there were two sets of feet pounding down the hallway. 

 

“PHILLIP!” Two little voices exclaimed. 

 

He mustered a smile. It was sincere, but he still hurt. He wouldn’t say anything, of course. “If it isn’t my two favorite girls!”

 

They wasted no time in shedding their shoes and climbing into the bed next to him. 

 

He wrapped one arm around each and pulled them both close. “You know, for a second there I didn’t know if we had the elephants over for dinner!”

 

The girls giggled in delight. “That’s what mommy says too!” Helen said with a mischievous smirk, like her father’s. 

 

“Then maybe two little girls should slow their roll inside.” Anne stood in the doorway, a smile playing on her face as well. 

 

“ANNE!” The girls jumped off the bed, racing to embrace her. Her hands flew into the air as they nearly knocked her to the ground. 

 

“That’s the most enthusiastic greeting I’ve gotten all day! Mr. Grumpy over here wasn’t nearly so happy to see me.” She smiled teasingly at him. 

 

Caroline whirled on him, a mock-stern look on her face. “Phillip, Mommy said you’re NOT supposed to be out of bed. Don’t make me go tell her you’re trying to be.” 

 

Phillip visibly swallowed. He’d learned rather quickly Charity Barnum was a force to be reckoned with. “I won’t try again, Caroline. I promise.”

 

She nodded in approval. “Okay.” With that, they all piled onto the bed, the girls situating themselves rather happily between the two grownups. 

 

Helen snuggled close to Phillip. While she claimed that she didn’t like him any better than Anne, it was obvious that Helen loved Phillip, just as Phillip had a soft spot for her. She had been nearby him since he’d come home, and would rarely leave, only by force. Charity’s mom voice was a wonderful thing on some occasions. She refused to go to bed each night until after Phillip (and only Phillip) had told her a story. (He didn’t dare tell her he was running out of ideas.) She would bring him water, snacks, pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, and made him swear that he would snuggle her teddy bear while she was at school. His room was beginning to look like an annex of Helen’s room. Phillip didn’t even pretend to mind. It was so good to see her again that any coddling he might have once protested he accepted gratefully. 

 

It was nice to be cared for. 

 

WD stuck his head around the doorway, and knocked softly on the door jam. “Caroline, Helen, dinner time,” He said. He knew what was coming next. 

 

“I’m not leaving! We just got here!” Helen protested. 

 

“Go eat, Helen. I’m not going anywhere,” Phillip ordered gently. 

 

Helen's grip around his waist tightened. “No,” she whispered. It was supposed to be defiant, but the fear slipped through. Caroline had already crawled off the bed. 

 

“It’s alright, W.D., she can eat up there if she wants.” Charity’s voice carried up the stairs. “Just this one time, Helen.” 

 

Helen had buried her head somewhere around Phillip’s sternum. 

 

“Hey, Peanut. It’s alright, your mom said you could stay with us.” Phillip was concerned. This wasn’t like Helen at all. He looked at Anne and nodded. She slipped out quietly to go get their food, WD escorting her down the stairs. She understood he wanted to know what was going through that bright little mind of hers.

 

“Helen, what’s goin’ on?” He whispered quietly into the room. She hadn’t spoken to him. 

 

Helen shook her head stubbornly, rubbing her head across his shirt like Anne did when she was waking. 

 

“Sweetpea, I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me,” He implored.

 

“They took you.” Her words were thick, laced with fear. “They took you away.” 

 

“They did. But I’m here now.” He didn’t want to tell her they were actually after her and her sister. 

 

“What if they come back?” 

 

“I won’t let them. Neither will your dad, or WD, or even Anne. I’m staying right here.” 

 

“Phillip I don’t want you to leave again ever.” 

 

He looked at her seriously, determination lining his face. “I’m not ever leaving you. But if you and I are ever apart, i want you to know that I’m always right here with you.” He patted a hand over her heart. “I’m always right here.” 

 

A few tears slipped down Helen’s face. “Promise?” She whispered. 

 

“I promise.” 

 

“I love you, Phillip,” she whispered into his chest. She was heavier, relaxing against him in a dozing sleep. He absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair. How the hell anyone would want to hurt them was beyond his comprehension. 

 

Anne looked at him from the doorway, plates in her hand. “Is she alright? This really...really scared her. You know how much she loves you.” 

 

Phillip shook his head. “I...I don’t know. She’s terrified of me disappearing again. She’s terrified to leave me. What can we do?”

 

Anne didn’t want to tell him, but it seemed pertinent. “Charity said she hasn’t been sleeping. She’ll go in to wake them in the morning and find Helen staring out the window. Charity will ask her if she slept and she’ll say yes, but look at her eyes. They look like she’s been in competition with a raccoon.” They both smiled at the comparison. 

 

“What can we do? There’s medication to help her sleep, but I don’t want to force it on her. Your subconscious is a beast.” He shuddered. “That stuff only makes it worse.” 

 

“Maybe if we show her how to stay safe? How to keep herself...and others safe?” It was a vague idea at best, but it had merit. 

 

“Maybe,” he responded, stroking Helen’s hair. He just wanted to keep them safe from the world forever, keep them as happy and innocent as they were now. 

 

He knew it was an impossible dream, but that didn’t make it any less important to him. 

 

He barely tasted his dinner as he contemplated a solution. He knew how to put himself to sleep when he couldn’t face his subconscious. He refused to introduce that solution to these two innocent girls. 


	13. Fighting Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip is healing, and he's got to learn how to fight back if he's going to keep up this whole self-sacrificing thing.

Phillip was finally starting to feel better. He didn’t hurt as much, and everything had closed itself properly. 

 

Barnum came into his bedroom, looking at him and almost...appraising him, like a horse at the market. “P.T.?” His tone was concerned, to say the least.

 

“Phillip, are you ready to go back to the circus?”

 

Phillip jumped at the chance to get out of the house. “Yes. When do we leave?! Now? Great.” 

 

Phineas laughed. “Phillip, slow down. And don’t get all dressy. It won’t last long.” 

 

Intrigued, Phillip slowly pulled on a pair of trousers that had seen better days and a dark shirt that was no longer appropriate to wear with a suit. He had a feeling today was going to be a little more...physical than his usual workdays.

 

Anne came in just as he did the last button. Stepping close to him, she embraced him. “You ready?” She asked him. 

 

He nodded unsteadily. “I think so.” 

 

They made their way down the stairs. Finding WD and Barnum waiting for them was unnerving to say the least. Their faces cemented the unease that was crawling through his veins. Anne felt the change in him and stopped. “Phillip?” Her voice was low, meant only for him to hear. 

 

He shook his head. His words were escaping him. 

 

“It’s alright. If you’re not ready we can turn around, go right back upstairs. Maybe take a wander through the garden. It’s alright.” 

 

He shook his head again. He had to remember they weren’t here to hurt him. They wouldn’t. “No...let’s...let’s go.” 

 

They continued down the stairs, Barnum and W.D. unnaturally close to them. Phillip’s heart began pounding. “Let’s go.” His tone was clipped, and he turned on his heel. Anne squeezed his arm reassuringly as they made their way to the carriage. The ride was quiet, leaving him to ponder what on earth was going on for the entire ride to the circus. 

 

WD shot Anne a pointed look when they entered. “Anne, didn’t you have a new routine to practice?” Anne reluctantly took herself away from Philip, brushing a kiss over his forehead before she did. She shot her brother a hard look and whispered in his ear before walking away. 

 

WD softened his gaze slightly. “Phillip, Barnum wanted to talk to you in the office for a bit.” That was all he offered as he went over to counsel with Lettie of all people. An unusual conference, but the words made him nervous. 

 

He took the most circuitous route possible to the offices, walking slowly. The dread was building in his stomach, the anxiety climbing to a fever pitch. He approached the office, forcing each foot in front of the other.

 

He knew his anxiety was irrational, P.T. would never harm him, but he was still shaking in his shoes. 

 

“P.T.?” He hated the way his voice cracked. 

 

“Phillip, sit down. We need to talk.” His tone was gentle, but his face was carefully crafted so he gave away nothing about what he wanted to discuss. “What were you thinking? That was incredibly dangerous, and irrational. I...We could’ve lost you.” his tone hadn’t  changed, but his voice broke. “We can’t handle that, Phillip.”

 

“If it hadn’t been me, it would have been Caroline and Helen, and I couldn't allow that to happen. I don’t even want to imagine what they would have done to them.” He didn’t tell Barnum that those thoughts haunted his nightmares. His girls, screaming for him as they were carried away, their lifeless bodies lying in hospital beds. 

 

“-lip? Phillip?” his name brings him back to himself, and he realizes he’s shaking. 

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rambles on as Phineas talks over him. 

 

“Phillip. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re alright. It’s alright.” Barnum’s voice is even, gentle. 

 

“I couldn’t let them take them.” It’s the only thing he can think to say. 

 

“I know. And I’m grateful. But you have to know how to protect yourself.” 

 

With that, Barnum leads him down the stairs, where Lettie and WD are both dressed in loose clothes. “These two are going to teach you how to fight.” 

 

Phillip turns a confused look on the ringmaster. “I already know how.” 

 

WD laughs. “You know how to pretty boy fight over a girl in a bar. Not how to street fight.” 

 

Phillip blanched. It was going to be a long afternoon. 

\---

“We really should have taught you how to do this a long time ago,” remarked W.D, who had just won another fight. 

 

Philip was fighting to catch his breath. “Why?” He was genuinely curious. 

 

WD looked at him. “You run with us, that’s reason enough.”

 

Philip rocked his head from side to side. “Good point. What’s next?”

 

“Releasing from a stranglehold from the front.” WD goes through the steps slowly. “First, grab the hands around the wrists. Next, curl your shoulders up to force the wrists inward, making it suddenly uncomfortable for them to hold you. Third, use the hold on their wrists to shove their arms upward and, more importantly, off of you. Last, shuffle backwards and put your hands up in defense after shoving them backwards.” 

 

WD’s hands reached for his throat to practice. Phillip swallowed.  _ He won’t hurt me, he won’t this is just practice.  _

 

“Phillip?” WD’s stopped coming towards him. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“Are you alright?” 

 

“Yeah...I’m fine.”

 

WD shares a look with Lettie. “Let’s take a minute. I think Barnum said something about having the girls come too.” 

 

Phillip nodded slowly. 

 

Phillip sprints out of the ring. He needs a break. He goes straight to the offices, not anticipating PT to be in there. 

 

“Phillip?”

 

“Hey…” he huffs out a nervous laugh. 

 

Barnum tilts his head. “Are you alright?” 

 

Phillip nods, not trusting his voice. The last thing he needs is someone else coddling him. 

 

“Right, now that we’re through with that, what’s wrong?” 

 

“If you didn’t want my answer why did you ask the question?” His mood swings towards defensive, as it had every time someone tried to check on his state of mind since they rescued him. He tried to convince himself that he was fine, why couldn’t anyone just let him be. 

 

Barnum softens his tone. “Phillip, you’re shaking, and you came tearing in here like the lions were behind you. What’s going on?” 

 

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Phillip stalked out of the office, out of the tent, intent on going home. 

 

“Phillip!” Helen’s blonde hair filled his face. He caught her, trying not to wince as pain jolted through him. 

 

“Hey!” He smiled down at her. “If it isn’t one of my two favorite girls.” 

 

“Daddy said that WD was gonna teach me to fight!” 

 

Phillip froze. “Reeeally?” 

 

“Mhm! He said it will help me be brave, like you!”

 

Phillip’s heart sank. A world where someone as young as Helen had to learn to defend herself? That was just cruel. He would rather be beaten up a million more times than have Helen learn to fight. But he knew that it was probably for the best. 

 

“Where are you going, Phillip?” Helen asked. 

 

“I...i needed a break. WD’s been helping me too.” He was far less enthusiastic. 

 

“Well will you come back and help me?” 

 

“Yeah. I will. Let’s not keep him waiting, yeah?”

 

Hand in hand, they went back into the tent. 


	14. The list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne finds something in Phillip's pocket she wasn't supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that list we discussed a few chapters back? Here it is again.

Anne was gathering Phillip’s clothes together one day when she took a slip of paper out of his pocket. It wasn’t unusual, Phillip had slips of paper everywhere. It was a good week when the washing didn’t come back with papers trapped in the linings of his vest. She unfolded it, and gasped at what she saw. It was a list of names. Her name, Caroline, Helen, Charity, PT, Lettie, Constantine, WD, Tom, a couple others in the circus troupe. Her heart broke, even without knowing what the list was for. Hearing footsteps in the hallway, she stashed the sheet of paper in her pocket. 

She breathes a sigh of relief when the steps pass by the door. 

She looks at it, trying to think back to when Phillip had worn this vest last. (She had a rule about laundry. Things like vests got worn 3 times and they were washed.) Phillip hadn't been himself. He'd eaten at her request, but he'd been in his office, generally out of sorts. He'd been despondent, quiet, almost brooding. She'd left him alone. 

He always held her a little tighter those nights, and midnight murmurs had him begging her not to leave, pleading with her. In the morning, he never remembered. 

She needed to talk with him.  
\---  
“Phillip? Phillip do you have a moment?” He was sitting in the chair, reading something and basking in the sunlight. It’s not until she puts a hand on his shoulder that he stirs. 

“Did you need me? I didn’t hear you.” He kisses the hand on his shoulder. She uses the opportunity to lead him to the bed and sits down carefully next to him on the edge. She drew the paper out of her pocket. 

Phillip was confused. He didn’t know what this was about. When Anne took the paper out of her pocket, he started to suspect what it was about. “Anne...where did you find that?” 

Anne tries to deflect. “That depends. What is it?” 

Phillip panics. “That’s...you weren't...why...how...how did you find it?” He's yelling, masking panic with anger. He jumps off the bed, backing away rapidly. Anne steps towards him, and he takes a step back instinctively. “No...no you weren't meant to find it. Nobody can know about it.”

“If I promise that, will you come sit back down?” Anne's tone is soft, coaxing, like when he has a headache. He knows she won't hurt him, but the panic is overwhelming. Every instinct screams at him to run. 

He does. 

She takes off after him. She knows how they look, tearing through the house like children. She corners him at the door, his panicked struggling getting him nowhere. 

“Phillip, stop.” 

There are tears tracking down his face. His tugging and turning at the door gets him nowhere. 

“Phillip, please, stop!” Anne’s desperate to find out why this list has him so panicked. 

He doesn’t stop tugging at the door until Anne holds him from behind, pinning his arms to his chest. “Phillip, I’m right here. It’s alright. Stop before you hurt yourself.” She keeps whispering quiet platitudes as he stops fighting her hold.

When he’s calm, she holds him by the shoulders, facing her, his eyes downcast. “What is it?” Her tone is the same gentle tone she’s had with the entire situation.

“You weren't supposed to know about it.” He tries to be angry, but doesn't quite get there.

“Phillip, I don't even know what it is. Please, tell me so we can deal with it.”

Anne takes his hand, limp though it is, and leads him to the sitting room. “What is it?”

Phillip chokes. “A list.” 

Anne nods. “I saw that. A list for what?”

“A...a list of people...who would miss me.” the unspoken message hangs in the air. 

Anne can't help herself. She starts crying. “Why...when...Phillip?”

“Sometimes...I just get it into my head...nobody would miss me. These lists...they help me remember.”

“How long?” Her voice is rising in pitch. 

“Probably since I was 13?”

Anne gasps through her sobs. “Phillip…” she whispers. 

“It's gotten better, but never really gone away.” 

They embrace. “Next time...tell me? I love you. Don't you ever leave me.”

Phillip nods into her shoulder. “Promise,” he murmurs. 

She lays him down when he falls asleep. His hand goes limp in hers and she carefully lets go. 

She gives him one last glance on her way out the door. 

She ventures down the stairs and enters the kitchen quietly. She startles charity when she clears her throat. “Charity?” 

“Anne, i didn’t see you there.” 

That was kind of the idea, Anne thought acidly. Letting the bitterness go, she faced the other woman. “I think you and Mr. Barnum need to talk to Phillip. I found this,” she held out the list, “in one of his vests.” 

Charity read the list, and looked at Anne, confused. “What is it?” 

Anne choked on the words. “People who would miss him,” she forced out, “if he died.” 

Charity was stunned. She didn’t know what to think. She knew Phillip often thought he wasn’t allowed to have love, or a family, but she didn’t think it would be this bad. “How...when…?” 

Anne bit her lip. “I think that would be better for him to tell.” Against every single instinct, she turned and walked out.   
—  
Later that day, Charity and Phineas rapped softly on the door to Phillip’s room (despite his arguments of it only being temporary), and he turned. “I’m...I’m sorry, did you need the room back, did i do something, whatever it is i’m sorry…” 

Charity covered her mouth with a hand. He’d jumped to conclusions so quickly, assuming it was his fault. 

Phineas jumped to her rescue. “No, it’s nothing you’ve done, Phil. We just need to talk.” He pulls the paper out of his pocket. “About this.” 

Phillip’s gasp of surprise told the parents everything. “Who...how...Anne!” He gasped out. “She...she promised.” His voice broke. 

“Phillip...what is this?” Charity found her voice again. 

“You don’t already know?” He asked acidly. 

“Phillip, mind your tone.” Phineas corrected reflexively. 

Phillip shrinking back from him told him he’d overstepped. “I’m sorry.” He responded meekly. 

“Phillip, explain.” Charity ordered. 

Phillip looked desperate. 

“Please?”

“When...when things get dark...in my head...i feel like nobody cares. So i write this...to remind myself who does. When it’s really bad...i imagine...i imagine who would...show up to…” he trails off, allowing them to draw their own conclusion. He hated having to spit that out. “The...the voice telling me...it sounds like my father.” He breaks down. He really didn’t want to tell them, and he hated having someone find out. 

“Phillip, be honest. Did you consider...that?” 

Phillip nods. He wasn’t proud of it. But he wondered, sometimes, how the blade would feel sliding over his skin. And who would miss him if he did. Which is how we got here, he reminds himself. 

He feels arms come around them, and he breaks. It felt horrible and wonderful in equal measure to have his secret discovered by someone else. He didn’t have to bear the burden alone.


	15. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen is terrified to sleep. But nobody knows why.

“Helen, it’s time for bed for everyone. Phillip too.” 

 

“Please mommy? Just one story?” 

 

Phillip shares a look with anne as he hears the bargaining going on at the other end of the hallway. “Like clockwork,” they say in unison. 

 

Charity’s voice becomes stern, and even though it’s not directed at him, Phillip tenses. Anne’s hand runs back and forth across his shoulders. “Helen, in that bed, or I swear on the elephants that you aren’t going to the circus for a week.” 

 

Helen bursts into sobs unexpectedly. “Please, mommy.” 

 

PT, out of nowhere, chimed in as well. “Helen, it’s bedtime. Even for Phillip and Anne and WD.”

 

Phillip snickered. Anne smacked him and he tried to look contrite.

 

“Hush, you child. Wipe that smirk off your face, Carlyle,” Anne hissed, trying really hard not to smile. “We’re supposed to be adults.” 

 

“Not with the way Phin’s been acting lately.” Phillip smirked again, wider this time. “I think he may have unintentionally adopted three kids.” 

 

Anne looked at him, puzzled. “Three? How do you figure? Only one he’s parenting round here is you, lil Philly!” She added a ‘little kid’ voice to the end of her statement, earning her a poor imitation of a glare. “Oh, stop.” 

 

They both tuned into the discussion in the hallway once more. “Please daddy just one please i didn’t get to say goodnight!” Helen was begging through her tears. 

 

Phillip really wanted to get up and watch, just to see PT give into the pleading tone that got him every time. He had to know the secret. But he resisted the urge. 

 

“Fine. Ten minutes.” 

 

“Thanks daddy!” Helen’s hiccuping sobs were already tapering off. Phillip Knew Phineas was about to get metaphorically dragged by his ears by charity and he had no desire to bear witness to that. 

 

“Phillip?” Helen dug her toes into the rug. 

 

“Hey peanut.” 

 

“Can...can you tell me about the pirates again?” 

 

“Of course.” He scooted over to make room for her. “Once upon a time, in a land far away…” he wove a tale of daring, dashing pirates Phineas and Phillip and fair maidens who just so happened to be named Helen and Caroline. Helen was asleep before they’d even rescued the fair princess Annebelle. 

 

“Do you want to move her?” He whispered the question to Anne, watching the little girl protectively next to her. 

 

“Not with the way Charity said she’s been sleeping.” 

 

As if she heard her name, Charity stuck her head around the door. “Did she finally sleep?”

 

Phillip nodded. “Yeah...yeah, she did. We weren’t gonna move her, but if you want us to…?” He finished the last question with a tilt of his head. 

 

Charity shook her head. “No, and i think she’ll be home from school tomorrow. She hasn't been sleeping, and her teacher says she’s dozing in class.”

 

Phillip winced. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Charity looked at him, something he couldn’t name simmering under the surface. “Phillip, stop apologizing. You don’t need to apologize.” 

 

“Sorry.”

 

Anne shook her head. 

 

Helen began to stir. Charity nodded at them as she left. Phillip settled her back down comfortably against him, almost on top of him. She clutched at him, even in sleep. He slid down next to her, Anne with a lazy arm thrown over him. They slept quietly. 

—

_ “Phillip?” Helen called timidly into the blackness. She didn’t know where she was, but she was scared. Really scared. She really wanted her daddy. Or Phillip.  _

 

_ “HELEN! RUN!” She heard the words, the same ones she’d heard when Phillip got taken away.  _

 

_ She wasn’t gonna be scared. “NO!” She yelled back at him.  _

 

_ “OK. That’s fine by us.” She felt hands on her, lifting her. She started to cry.  _

 

_ “Phillip! Phillip help me! PHILLIP!”  _

 

_ Suddenly he was there again. “Helen, Helen it’s okay, shh, you’re okay.” _

 

_ She forced her eyes open.  _

 

She’d never been more relieved to see Phillip. She latched onto him, legs wrapping around his waist. She cried into his shoulder, not able to tell them what had happened. 

 

“Shh, shh it’s okay,” Phillip soothed, stroking her hair. 

 

Anne’s soft hand ran up and down her back, twirling the ends of her hair through her fingers. “What happened, Peanut?” 

 

“They...had you...and you...told...me to run...but i didn’t and then they took me too!” Her words speed up as she begins to panic again. 

 

“Alright Helen, it’s okay. You’re here, and I’m not gonna let anybody take you. Ever, i promise. Remember what i told you earlier?” 

 

He nudged her. She sat back, looking at her lap. “Helen, what’d i tell you?” 

 

Helen mumbled petulantly, “You’re always with me, here.” She patted her heart. 

 

“That’s right. Always.” Philip pulled her back into him. 

 

“Can you sleep?” He felt her nod against his chest. 

 

“Alright. I’m right here. I promise. Go to sleep.” 

 

Helen slept until the sun was far past the treetops. 


	16. Bad Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip has a Bad Day. He's not a fan of these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, I'm so sorry. The materials for this chapter have been everywhere BUT where I've been since i started writing again, and my semester is finally going somewhat smooth, so there's hope yet. Enjoy!

Phillip sat facing out the window. He’d been despondent and skittish all day, speaking rarely, if at all. Anne was worried, but she’d watched him carefully, and didn’t notice any of the usual signs that he was having those awful self loathing thoughts that plagued him. He’d just been inside his head all day. 

“Phillip?” Anne spoke to him in the same gentle tone used to talk to the lions when they felt cornered. 

He turned his head, features almost...relieved, that it was just her. They relaxed, and Anne noticed tension that wasn’t there before bleed out of his shoulders. She placed a palm on his cheek, but didn’t miss the flinch that he couldn’t conceal as her hand came towards his face. She made a sympathetic, soothing noise. He blinked and swallowed heavily. 

He swore to himself he would be fine, he didn’t have time for this. They had a show to run, a show to perform, people who needed things from him. And it was a lot. 

Too much, if you asked him. It was all just too much right now. 

“Phillip?” Anne had seen his eyes go far away, looking through her instead of at her. He shook his head, winced, resisted raising a hand to his head, and smiled at her. 

At least, he tried to. It looked more like a pained grimace. “Sorry, my thoughts got away from me. Did you want me?” He tried to play nonchalant. 

It didn’t work. Anne saw right through it. However, now was not the time to call him out on it. 

“No, just that dinner’s ready, and we told Charity we’d be joining them tonight.” It was a gentle reminder and rebuke. 

“Right, of course. Let me just get ready.” He’d forgotten. 

They made their way down the stairs, neither speaking. Anne was careful to give him his space. 

That space, to Phillip, meant that she was treating him differently, like he was broken. 

He wasn’t broken.

Charity’s warm smile greeted them as they rounded the doorway, but far off, Philip could hear something clunking down the hallway. 

He turned his head but couldn’t see anything. 

“Philip?” Caroline’s voice startled him again. 

“Are you alright?” Anne’s warm hand on his arm was too tight. His tie was too tight. His clothes were too itchy. His shirt was choking him and he could hear the clanging getting louder. He heard a squeaking noise and it put him over the edge. 

He ran. It occurred to him, dully, that he really should stop doing this. Running didn’t solve anything. 

But it saved Caroline and Helen. 

He didn’t run towards the front door. That was too obvious. He ran towards the kitchen, having made a note where it was after the servants had directed his search of Charity in that direction. He knew there was a backdoor that led into the gardens. He could hide there. He’d be safe. 

He heard someone, someone male, calling his name, feet chasing after him, and he frantically dove through the backdoor. As he emerged into the gardens, he felt some of the anxiety ebb away. He was outside in the open, nothing trapping him. He could hide, he could climb, he could be safe. Philip turned sharply to the right and dove into the trees. He found one deep into the woods and frantically climbed it. He looked around and realized he had no idea where he was. But he was safe, up a tree. He could watch below, and nobody ever looked up when they were searching for him. His father, his tutor, his mother, his headmaster, not even Anne, until she’d discovered his love for climbing and exploited it. 

He heard a rustling next to him and sighed inwardly. He knew who it was going to be before he even looked. 

“Phillip.” The gentle tone was still there, however, there was more of an edge to it. Caring, but still an edge, a warning. 

“I’m sorry Anne. I didn’t expect this to happen. Any of it.”  
“You went through a traumatic event, you’re almost expected to have rough times. It’s nothing to apologize for.” 

Phillip closed his eyes, enjoying the soft rustling of the tree. He jumped at a hand on his shoulder. 

Anne was looking at him, the love in her eyes shining so brightly it hurt him. “Nobody’s expecting you to magically be ‘better’, you know that, right?”

“It’s embarassing.”

“Why?”

“Because. The two sides of me are having a disagreement, and it’s up to me to sort it. Except, I can’t. I just...react.”

Anne let the statement hang in the air. 

Without a word, she took his hand and led him out of the tree. 

He didn’t even remember getting into the bed.


	17. Self Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity hasn't dealt with the ordeal yet. She finds herself alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, two within a week, it's a miracle. To all my jewish readers, Happy Hannukah! To all my readers of other faiths, happy holidays and happy...tuesday?? Either way, i hope all you lovely people are having a good day.

Charity approached Phillip the next morning. She thought about all he’d gone through in the past two weeks, and realized she’d never taken the time to deal with it herself. Between reigning in her daughters, her husband, and caring for Phillip and, by extension, Anne, she’d left no time for herself. Nonetheless, the world kept turning and this needed to be done. 

“Phillip?” The man in question stirred, blinked, and resettled. Charity, despite everything, stifled a chuckle. He was so like a child in the mornings. 

“Phillip.” This time, he realized he was being addressed and looked at her properly. 

He regretted it when he realized that she looked unsure, and distressed. He hated himself for putting that look on her face. A tear slipped out, unbidden, and he turned away. He was done with the tears, with the crying and being sad and stuck in the same 4 walls. 

Carlyle’s don’t cry, a voice hissed in his head. He rolled his eyes, and spoke back to it mentally. Carlyle’s don’t make a habit of becoming damsels in distress, either.

“I have breakfast laid out in the dining room. The girls have already gone off to school, and the troupe has already gone off to rehearsal. It’s alright. It’s just us.” 

Charity left him to do as he wished. After a similar upbringing, she could tell he was overwhelmed with everyone constantly being on top of him, caring for him, and simply checking in with him. It became a lot to deal with when most of your childhood had been spent in solitude, with your own thoughts. 

Charity, also finding the many people in her home a bit much, retreated to her sitting area, nestled comfortably in a corner. She sat in a chair, and began to consider what had happened. She’d been so busy with everyone else’s well being, she had shoved the entire incident into the back of her mind and figured she would deal with it through helping everyone else. That hadn’t happened. She hated to admit that once her daughters left, and the house became a quiet place of reflection. 

She embraced the silence now, reflecting. She let herself cry, for the pain that was inflicted on Phillip. 

She cried for her daughters, who now knew that their little worlds weren’t as safe as they once thought. 

She cried for her husband, so haunted now by the dreams and what he’d witnessed in that house of horrors. 

She cried for Anne, traumatized by the actions taken by others. 

She cried for herself, for losing the way she’d been so sure she'd follow. For losing the woman who never condoned violence. Who would have never suggested going into that house. 

For the woman that she was.   
\---  
Phillip heard a soul-deep crying from somewhere in the home, and he followed it to the front room. He found an empty room, but the crying was loudest in here. He quickly discounted a haunting. He’d never been one to believe. He knew the things that went bump in the night were not just in the night. They were just as monstrous in the daytime. 

He made his way, slowly, around the room. It was tastefully set up in small groupings of chairs, often rearranged for larger groups to gather. Phillip approached a set facing the corner, farthest from the door, and the crying increased in volume. He turned around the chair facing away from the door, and found Charity Barnum, crying desperately. 

Rather than say anything, he put a hand on her shoulder. She startled under his soft touch, as he expected, but he didn’t move his hand. He knew how often he wished for someone to come and comfort him when he cried. 

Charity turned around at the hand on her shoulder. She’d let herself tune out of the world around her. When she saw philip, she ran a quick hand over her face, trying not to let him see her cry. 

His hand stopped hers, and held it. “It’s alright, you know. You don’t have to take care of everyone.”

Charity didn’t respond, didn’t notice as his hand moved and he sat himself down across from her. She was lost in her thoughts. Her very center was taking care of her children, her family, and her husband. If she wasn’t a caretaker...who was she?

She voiced the last thought to Phillip, still across from her, silently supporting her. He answered her softly. “You’re Charity Barnum. You’re whoever you want to be. You’re a wife, a daughter, a mother, but you’re also you. And that’s the most important title you can bear.”

Charity sat and thought about that profound statement for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of my plot bunnies, send us yours! (Seriously, though, if you want updates, I need ideas. SOS.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please review!


End file.
